


Would that I

by themoonowl



Series: Spirits, Sorcerers and Soulful Nights [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Book: Hard in Hightown - Varric Tethras, But Nothing TOO Wild, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Haven (Dragon Age), Having a Crush, Mostly Fluff, Mutual Interest, POV Solas, Solas is an old man at heart, The Breach (Dragon Age), and at actual age but I mean, some description of corpses, take it easy gramps, that sentence about modern novels rotting people's brains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonowl/pseuds/themoonowl
Summary: An uneventful night in Haven is disturbed by some quiet footsteps. It turns out to be a pleasant night after all.





	Would that I

Solas opened his eyes.

The wooden beams of the small hut entertained his waking sight as the cold damp mountain air chilled his body even through the thick woolen covers. The snores of the soldiers and the moonlight peeking through the windows indicated that daylight was yet to come. He had already briefed his agents for the night however; and the mountain had no stories to tell that he did not already know.

He turned to a book next to his bed, possibly belonging to one of the men. He stretched out his hand and grasped it. It was heavy, the cover adorned with a picture of an old and tired human who bore a guard uniform. Its back held a picture of a face he recognised—that of Varric Tethras.

'Hard in Hightown' was its name, an eccentric title if he ever saw one. But regardless, reading the literature of this time—especially one written by a child of the Stone—could prove educational.

A faint orb of light in one hand and the book in his lap, he breezed through the pages as they told of an old guardsman and his adventures in Kirkwall. It proved easy to read and quite intriguing—master Tethras was an accomplished writer indeed.

Somewhat silent footsteps disturbed Solas's uneventful night. They were too quiet to be the steps of any patrolling guard, yet too loud to be the steps of a thief. Or Sera.

The unknown lurker continued until they reached the leftmost side of the cabin and after a minor commotion, the noise settled down. A familiar magic filled the air—his magic—the mark. It was possibly the Herald that was the source of it, yet… Why would she leave her quarters on this cold night?

Solas got up—careful not to wake the soldiers—and stepped out in nothing but his night garments under the thick woolen bed-cover he wore as a cloak.

And indeed there she sat on the battlements, her head turned towards the sky—the Breach reflecting its greenish light on her brown skin, her moonlit silver hair flowing ever so slightly in the cool breeze. But this was not the time nor place for idle observations and marvels. They remained a distraction, however pleasant.

And the matter remained—she was here. Did something trouble her? Her eyes stood fixated on the Breach, perhaps that was it—with the mages now recruited, it would soon come to a close—by her hand nonetheless. And he knew too well the calm before the storm, the uneasy tremble one gets in the soul. Perhaps a talk was what she needed? Conversing with her had always been a breath of fresh air, whether they agreed on the subject matter or not. It would be interesting to hear her thoughts on the Breach's closing and its effects.

Solas marked his presence with a cough and she turned—first with a gasp and a surprise in her eyes, then with a gentle smile on her lips. "You couldn't sleep too?" she motioned for him to sit next to her.

"You could say that, yes," he touched the stone and poured heat from his hands onto it before sitting down. "What of you, if I may ask? The air is too cold for anyone to linger.”

She turned her gaze to the Breach once more, her eyes now hardened and cold. "I saw…" she sighed. "You told me not to say anything to you about the future Alexius conjured and you in it, but… A detail has been bothering me ever since that day."

“Oh?” His stomach felt heavy. His future self would surely not be so careless as to reveal his plans to her, no matter how tortured or beaten. "If you deem it necessary," he continued with caution, “Do tell.”

"You died,” her voice trembled. “I watched you die. You looked at me with those red glowing eyes and… The next thing I remember is a demon carrying your lifeless body and dropping it to the ground like a slab of meat."

Her revelation brought relief. And yet unease. She glanced at him as if searching for a reaction before turning her gaze to the Breach once more.

“You and Blackwall sacrificed yourselves so we could live. So that that version of the future wouldn't come to pass. Leliana too. She was the last person I saw before we…” A small sliver of fog left her lips in the form of a sigh. “I don’t know why this bothers me so much. I’ve seen people die before, it’s just…”

“It gets no easier. Do not be fooled that experience can shield one’s self from pain nor shock.”

She clutched her knees, her lips pursed, her eyes fixated on the Breach that flared before her. As she sat in contemplation, he could not help but wonder—his future self.

Sacrifice was a word he did not enjoy given history. The ones that called themselves gods would sacrifice their slaves so thoughtlessly, so casually. And yet he did it so effortlessly in this alternate future that one should ask the question—why? If Corypheus had taken power and brought down the Veil… Would it not be in his interest to merely push the tyrannical half-wit and seize power for himself? If his future self could not accomplish that… Then perhaps this Elder One was a threat bigger than the Evanuris themselves. A threat that  _ he _ unleashed onto the world.

“At least you’re here now,” Syl'i've'la’s soft, smoky voice broke any chain of thought he had. She stared at him now with those bright silver eyes that emanated a low shine. “That is… I’m glad you’re here,” Her eyelashes fluttered as she turned her gaze downwards with a shy smile. “Talking with me.”

“I am glad as well,” he felt a smile draw across his lips and promptly turned to look elsewhere. 

Syl'a yawned and stretched her arms in front of her. “It’s getting late," she quietly said. "Maybe we should both call it a night.”

“That would be a good idea, yes.”

She got up before him, her long coat almost touching the icy ground. He stood up as well, his bed cover still encompassing his body. And it did not provide much warmth in the mountain air.

“You’re not cold like that?”

“I am. But it does not matter. Your company has kept me warm on this cold night.”

Her charming chuckle filled the air. “Yours too.”

They stood for a while, their eyes locked when she finally broke the silence, “Good night, Solas.”

“Good night,” he nodded and walked back to the wooden hut full of snoring soldiers and rested his head on the pillow.

If there was any hope of returning to his slumber before he left, there was none now. Syla's silver eyes were still present in his mind as he revisited their short conversation. The concept of sacrifice returned to his thoughts as well and with it a sense of unease.

His future self had surely assessed that it was a course of action that would yield the best results. And that the Elder One was a threat that needed to be stopped at all costs. Yet these ill-considered feelings he harboured for this mortal woman in the present… It made the prospect adopt some misguided romanticist notes. Perhaps it was master Tethras's novel. Perhaps modern literature was not educational but merely poisoned the mind.

He put the book back in its previous position and shut his eyes, Syla's charming chuckle pleasantly haunting his sleep.


End file.
